Wonderingly he turned round; the blood froze in his veins; a purple flash of fire shot up in the dark sky. The black clouds were outlined with edges of fire, white flames whirled upward, and high above shot the glowing beams, as if there was an _aurora borealis_ in the sky. “Father’s house is burning!” His head fell heavily against the back of the bench; the next moment he raised himself up, his knees shook, the blood hammered in his temples. “On, on! save what is to be saved!” cried a voice within him; and with a wild rush he broke through the bushes, climbed the garden fence, and sank down into the ditch on the other side. The burning farm glared over the heath like the rising sun. The stubble shone, and the black wood was dipped in a red glow. The dwelling-house was as yet unhurt; its walls shone like marble, its windows sparkled like carbuncles. The yard was as bright as in daylight. It was the barn that was burning--the barn, filled to the roof with the harvest. His work, his happiness, his hope, lost like this in smoke and flames. He gathered himself up again; in wild haste he rushed across the heath. When he passed the wood he thought he saw a shadow flitting away which, at his approach, sank flat on the ground. He scarcely heeded it. “On, on! save what is to be saved!” Tumultuous screams greeted him from the yard. The farm-servants were rushing about wildly, the maids were wringing their hands, his sisters ran about calling his name. The village had just awakened.... The high-road filled with people.... Water-buckets were dragged forth, and a rotten fire--engine came also rattling along. “Where is your master?” he shouted to the servants. “Just being carried in; he has broken his leg,” was the reply. Misfortune upon misfortune. “Let the barn burn,” he called out to others who, losing their heads entirely, were pouring tiny buckets of water into the flames. “Save the cattle--take care that they do not run into the flames.” Three or four men hurried to the stables. “You others to the house; don’t carry anything out of it.” “Don’t carry anything out,” he repeated, tearing the objects out of the hands of some strangers who were just dragging them out of the house. “But we want to save the things.” “Save the house!” He hurried up the staircase. In passing he saw his mother sitting mute and tearless near his father, who lay on the sofa, whimpering. Through a trap-door he jumped onto the roof. “Give me the hose.” On a pitchfork they handed him the metal point of the hose. The column of water fell hissing upon the hot bricks. He sat astride on the ridge of the roof. His clothes became hot; glimmering sparks, which came flying from the barn, settled on his hair. Burning wounds covered his face and hands. He felt nothing that happened to his person, but he saw and heard everything around him--his senses seemed doubled.